a flame that still burns
by crazyundeadfairy
Summary: After finally beginning to accept that Oliver is probably dead, an unknown number calls Felicity's cell phone.


**a flame that still burns**

It takes a few moments for Felicity to realize that her phone is ringing, vibrating slightly against the desktop. She stares at it for a long moment because it shouldn't be ringing. Okay, yes it could be Barry or Caitlin calling her, but they tended not to call this particular phone unless it was an emergency and Central City is currently emergency free. The only other people who have the number for her "night job" phone are standing less than twenty feet away from her... or gone.

By this point, Diggle and Roy are staring at her from the practice mat, silently urging her to answer the phone. Felicity has to give the unknown caller credit for staying on the other end that long without a response. Most people would have hung up by now, too impatient to go unacknowledged for more than half a dozen rings.

Felicity lets her phone ring once more, daring the person on the other end to hang up, before she lethargically reaches over and slides her index finger across the touch screen. The phone is barely halfway to her ear when she offers up a strained, "Who is this?"

For a long moment there's no reply. Just the rough scratch and crackle typical for a pocket dial. Leaning back in her chair, Felicity presses her hand against her forehead and squeezes at her temples while she waits for the person on the other side to say something.

"Look, if you're not going to—"

"_Felicity?_"

All of the air feels as though it's been punched from her lungs. She sits bolt upright in the chair, every muscle in her body tense because that voice should not be on the other end of the line. That voice that can, with four syllables, convey a whole range of emotions that should otherwise be impossible to imbue a single word with. Hope. Fear. Passion. Concern. Love. He's the only one who's ever been able to infuse that much into her name.

"Ol… Oliver?"

A gasping moan trails off into a broken chuck before whispering her name a second time.

The shuffling sound returns and, before Felicity can ask what's going on, a new voice speaks. "_This man is known to you?_"

Her momentary euphoria dashed, Felicity pulls the phone away from her ear and turns it on speaker so Diggle and Roy can hear the conversation. She needs them to hear it so she'll know she's not crazy. That it really was Oliver she heard.

"Put Oliver back on the phone. Let me talk to Oliver," Felicity demands, setting the phone down on her desk. Diggle and Roy are hovering on the other side of her desk now, staring at her in confusion.

"_Oliver Queen is safe for the time being._"

Felicity's fingers are already flying over the keyboard in a desperate attempt to track the call's origin. If Oliver is alive, Felicity wants him back with her as soon as possible. Where he'll be safe, with her and the other people who love him. At this moment, Felicity doesn't care how he's alive, only that he is. That somehow the sword Merlyn brought back wasn't the whole truth despite the thick patina of Oliver's blood that stains the blade.

Diggle comes around to stand beside her, fists planted on the desk as he leans over her phone. "How do we know that Oliver's really with you?"

"John," Felicity hisses under her breath. She can't risk Diggle angering the caller before she gets a lock on where the call is coming from. She heard Oliver's voice. It was him and not a recording or whatever Diggle probably thinks is going on. Oliver has never said her voice quite like that, at least not to her, so it has to be him. Felicity can't believe anything else.

The man on the other line doesn't respond to Diggle's question, instead rattling off a series of numbers that Felicity quickly realizes are coordinates. She repeats the numbers aloud as she scribbles them down on a scrap piece of paper, listening carefully in case the voice makes any corrections.

"_I am unable to linger long, so make haste,_" the voice tells them, tone earnest and almost pleading. "_He will be waiting here for you._"

The call disconnects then, preventing them from asking any further questions. Or from hearing Oliver's voice again.

Felicity stares down at the now dark screen of her phone, willing it to ring.

"Okay, what just happened?" Roy's eyes are wide as he glances back and forth between her and Diggle. "Did you really talk to Oliver?"

"It was Oliver," Felicity confirms, the burn of tears stinging the back of her eyes and blurring her vision. "He's alive, Dig. He's—"

The ping is quiet, but to Felicity it sounds like a siren. She scrubs at her eyes, wiping away the frustrating tears. Tears won't help anything, will only slow them down when the voice on the phone said that he's going to be leaving Oliver to fend for himself with whatever injury left so much blood on the sword.

Her whole body slumps when she reads the numbers on her computer screen. She checks them against the ones she'd written on an old take-out receipt three times to make sure she's reading them properly and not simply projecting the numbers she wants to see onto the screen.

"They match."

**XXXXXXXXXX**

"Don't even try it, Dig. I'm going even if I have to figure out how to get there on my own."

Standing at the bottom of the staircase, hands fisted on her hips, Felicity does her best to appear intimidating to Diggle. Under normal circumstances Felicity would have no problem letting her boys go out and deal with the situation. They're the ones with all the training and she's much more content at her computer, watching their backs and keeping them safe while they protect the city. This time, though, Felicity can't just sit back and man the comms. She needs to be out there with them bringing Oliver home, Diggle's over protective streak be damned.

Felicity glances over his shoulder towards her work station where Lyla is finishing up the arrangements that will have a private plane waiting to take them to Oliver. There isn't much in the way of roads where they're going, but Lyla's connections have ensured there will be a sturdy off-road vehicle that can handle the journey and protect them from the elements. Diggle had initially suggested snowmobiles when they'd seen the satellite images of the location, but considering they don't know what condition Oliver's in, Felicity had vetoed that right away.

"You can't stop me."

"Felicity." Diggle's arms are crossed over his chest and he has the same expression in his eyes that he does whenever he's trying to talk Oliver out of doing something reckless. It's a very daunting look that's caused both Oliver and Roy to hesitate on more than one occasion, but Felicity refuses to back down.

Roy glances up from where he's checking over their gear, closing the latches on the specialty case for transporting Oliver's bow. He looks between them for a moment before straightening his shoulders and jumping into the fray. "We need her to come, Dig. We don't know much about the situation we're walking into or what shape Oliver's in, so we need an extra pair of hands to stick close to him. Better someone we know we can trust than chancing it with someone from A.R.G.U.S. who really doesn't give a shit about what happens to us."

"Look, I have no intention of going in guns blazing—that's all you and Roy—I just want to make sure Oliver comes back to us safe," Felicity assures him, looking for a compromise that will get her on the plane with minimal conflict. It's already been over an hour since the call from the unknown person with Oliver and they don't know how long they have until he leaves Oliver to fend for himself in the snowy wilderness. The satellite image showed some type of structure out there, but they have no idea what state of repair it's in or how weatherproofed.

"Give it up, John," Lyla says as she strides over to join the rest of them by the staircase. "Trying to stop her would be like trying to stop me if you were in trouble. Whoever tried to stop me would end up punched in the throat and I'd be going anyway."

Felicity straightens her posture, chin jutting out defiantly. She knows that Diggle only wants to keep her safe. She's not usually out in the field with them, and when she is it's only when absolutely necessary or when Oliver has thoroughly scouted the area she'll be. That's not something they can realistically do that in this situation because there are far too many variables. Not the least of which is that they don't know how badly Oliver's hurt.

Diggle glowers at her a moment longer before his shoulders slump in defeat. Before Felicity can say anything, he points a finger at her and warns, "If Oliver gets huffy about this, you're the one taking the blame."

"I promise," Felicity swears, standing up on tiptoe to press a kiss to Diggle's cheek. "Whatever happens will be entirely my fault and I'll take the full brunt of Oliver's glare of disappointment without complaint."

With a roll of his eyes, Diggle nudges her towards the locker rooms. "Go change. That getup will do you no good where we're going."

Felicity is changed in under three minutes, her fitted dress and heels exchanged for the dark jeans, deep red sweater and heavy boots that she wears when it's necessary for her to go out in the field. She also quickly packs a change of clothes for Oliver in a small duffle, pausing briefly to press her nose into the worn material of Oliver's henley, inhaling deeply. Oliver had worn it the day before he left to fight Ra's al Ghul and his smell still lingers in the fibres of the shirt. She allows herself only a brief moment of indulgence before shoving the shirt into the bag.

"We'll be there soon, Oliver," Felicity whispers to the photograph of him and Thea taped to the back of his cubicle. She brushes the tip of her index finger along the contours of his grinning image then hurriedly leaves the locker room.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

Felicity keeps her eyes glued to the GPS map on her tablet, giving periodic updates to Diggle about their route. The program's initial estimate on the trip from the airport to the coordinates the mystery caller had given was approximately 45 minutes. That estimate was obviously made in good weather because it's been well over an hour and a half and they're still not there. The little red dot they're driving towards is getting closer, but they still haven't reached it.

"We're about half a mile out," Felicity tells him, hunching forward to peer through the windshield in hopes of seeing… something. Any sign of the cabin they're supposedly heading towards.

"When we get there, you're waiting in here till Roy and I can check it out." Diggle glances at her briefly through the rearview mirror, his right eyebrow arching in a way that dares her to contradict him.

She does anyway because it's Oliver and she's not going to just sit back when she could be doing something to help. "No, I'm not. I'll stay outside until you and Roy clear the place, but I'm not going to wait in the car like some helpless damsel. I'm capable of more than just working magic with computers."

Diggle's hands tighten on the steering wheel, but he doesn't argue further. It's a relief because Felicity really doesn't have it in her to fight him on this any more. Because as much as she loves him for wanting to protect her, she's not someone who needs to be wrapped in bubble wrap any time something potentially dangerous happens.

Roy's suddenly leaning forward, practically out of his seat, index finger pointed towards the left of the windshield. "Does that look like a building to you guys?"

Straining her eyes, Felicity stares in the direction Roy's indicating. There's a lot of rock and a lot of trees, but if she squints she can almost make out a wooden cabin built into a rocky outcropping. She wills Diggle to drive faster, to eat up the ground between them and the cabin as quickly as possible. Felicity has completely abandoned her tablet by this point, and is instead gripping the top of the front bench seat so tight that her fingertips hurt. That last little distance seems to take so much longer after having at traveled at Barry Allen speeds in the past. Right now she desperately wishes for a little bit of that speed because she's currently feeling every one of those nine-plus hours since her phone rang in the Foundry.

The jeep stops roughly fifty yards away from the cabin.

Despite being ready to sprint the final distance only a few moments before, Felicity finds herself stuck. Oliver's right there. She should be sprinting the last distance towards the cabin with smoke lazily drifting from its chimney, but she can't make herself move. It's real now. When they cross the threshold of the cabin, they'll know whether Oliver's still alive. It'll be real, one way or the other.

Felicity sucks in a deep breath and forces her fingers loose from around seatback in front of her. She tugs her hat down further over her ears, her eyes never straying from the ancient looking cabin.

Diggle twists around in his seat to meet her eyes. "Are you ready?"

Unable to find her voice, Felicity nods. She has to be ready. There's no other option. Oliver's in there, waiting for them to come and get him. As fervently as she prays that he's still alive, they're going to bring him home either way. Only Felicity's just not sure what she's going to do if it's his body they're bringing home.

Felicity doesn't consciously recall the short trip from the jeep to the door of the cabin. She'd kept her gaze focused almost solely on her feet, placing each step in the footprints Roy left behind in the ankle deep snow. It would do no good to come this far only to trip and twist her ankle over some obstacle buried under the snow because with her luck that was a very real possibility.

A few feet away from the door, Diggle holds up a hand for her to stop and wait. Felicity purses her lips and nods, no longer quite as defiant as she'd been only a few minutes before. So she watches as Diggle and Roy exchange a handful of silent signals while she braces herself for what they're going to find on the other side of the surprisingly sturdy wooden door. Up close, the entire cabin has lost its ramshackle appearance, the snow and surrounding greenery having masked a great deal of its true appearance. This whole venture has been based deceiving appearances. That Oliver could still be alive despite so much of his blood staining that sword. And while Felicity truly believes that it was Oliver on the other end of the call, they may still be too late. Felicity desperately hopes that she's not going to have her heart shattered a second time.

Diggle throws the door open so suddenly that Felicity can't prevent a squeak from escaping her lips. The two men rush into the cabin, gun and bow drawn, disappearing almost instantly into the dim interior. Felicity inches closer to the door, peering inside to try and make out any shapes within. Rather than the wide open space she'd expected, the cabin's main room is broken up by a large wooden screen that obscures much of her view.

"Felicity!"

Not really knowing where she's going, Felicity bolts into the cabin. The light is dim, but she can see Diggle and Roy hovering towards the middle of the room, so she immediately heads there.

The instant she rounds the wooden screen, Felicity sees him. Oliver is lying on a narrow cot, a blanket covering him to the waist and his torso criss-crossed with bloodstained bandages. From where she's standing, she can only see the top of his head, but it's enough because his chest rising and falling with regular breaths.

"You're alive," Felicity gasps before stumbling to his side. She drops to her knees next to the cot, her eyes immediately going to his face. Oliver's face is tilted towards her, his eyes slitted open and one corner of his mouth tilted up ever so slightly.

"You came," he breathes out, voice rough and gravely.

Out of the corner of her eye, Felicity notices a slight movement. She glances down briefly and sees Oliver's fingers twitching slightly, searching out her own hand. Felicity immediately slips her fingers between his, squeezing gently before lifting his hand and resting it over her heart. Felicity places her other hand against Oliver's cheek, the rough stubble tickling her palm as she lightly strokes her thumb over his cheekbone.

"I love you," Felicity blurts out, needing him to know that above all else. Felicity leans forward, eyes sliding shut as she presses a soft kiss to Oliver's forehead and breathes him in. She then angles her head, sliding her nose alongside his, until her lips find his rough, chapped ones. "I love you and I'm not going to let you keep pulling this self-sacrificing nonsense because my heart can't take it anymore. Okay?"

Oliver nods slightly, his lips quirking beneath hers in what could be another soft smile. "Okay."

"Okay," Felicity murmurs. She leans back just enough so she can see Oliver's face when she blinks her eyes open. His eyes are still barely open, but there's a softness in his gaze that hasn't been there in far too long. And while a small portion of it may be the relief that Oliver's somehow still alive, when she kisses him this time it's so much better than the kiss the shared in the hospital all those months ago. Felicity lightly strokes her fingertips over his cheek, grinning into the kiss.

The kiss ends far too soon when Oliver suddenly gasps painfully. Felicity pulls back quickly, her eyes immediately going to Oliver's chest. There doesn't appear to be any fresh blood seeping into the bandages, but then Felicity hadn't examined it too closely at them before, far more concerned with looking at his face. Which was completely idiotic because making sure Oliver was okay was more important than kissing him.

Oliver's fingers squeeze briefly around hers, drawing her attention back to him. His brows are furrowed slightly, the corners of his eyes and mouth pinched uncomfortably, and Felicity feels infinitely worse.

"I'm okay," Oliver lies, furrowing his brows as he shifts uncomfortably on the cot. He starts to sit up and Felicity immediately reaches out to help him, calling to Diggle for extra assistance because Oliver shouldn't be straining himself when they don't know how seriously he's hurt. Still, even with both of them helping, there's a sheen of sweat along Oliver's hairline when he's sitting up. "I'm okay."

Shaking her head, Felicity scoots herself between his knees, ready to support him if he starts to wobble. She cups her hands over his cheeks, offering up a watery smile. "You're really not, Oliver."

"Better than I was," he amends, lifting his hands to grip her forearms.

Felicity raises herself up higher so that she can slot her lips over his in a second soft kiss. It extends longer than she planned when Oliver's right hand buries itself in the hair at the nape of her neck, holding her in place.

"Let's go home," Felicity whispers against his lips when they pull back for a breath. She feels Oliver smile against her lips as he nods.

"Home."


End file.
